


Oh, It's What You Do To Me

by HandsAcrossTheSea



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Derek Hale, M/M, Pit Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Self-Lubrication, Top Stiles Stilinski, yet a further product of the author's trash-filled imagination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 13:14:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19394884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandsAcrossTheSea/pseuds/HandsAcrossTheSea
Summary: Derek's ass is fucking magic.





	Oh, It's What You Do To Me

**Author's Note:**

> I am fully aware that I should probably be investing myself in larger, more meaningful projects - doesn't mean that I will. All I have time for these days is short little smut rides, so that's what I'll keep banging out. Guess all of those forays just happened to be Sterek-shaped as of late. It makes my brain happy, I guess?

One good thing about Stiles turning 18 is that when Derek pulls up outside his house, the sheriff doesn’t give him quite so many  _ looks.  _ They haven’t gone away, by any means - it’s still his kid, of course, and Derek has quite firmly ruined whatever innocence he might have had left. Stiles was a willing and enthusiastic participant in that, yes - but it still makes Derek feel like maybe he should pick him up at some other place rather than the driveway.

The sheriff does own a gun, however, and while it’s not likely to drop him dead on the first shot (unless he’s hit in the head or other vital organ) Derek still feels like he’s taking a risk. Even though he and Stiles are as transparent as possible with his dad - it’s not like Derek has anyone to answer to. He tries not to leave marks on Stiles’ neck or easily visible body spaces, but he’s so pale that it’s not exactly hard to do without intending. 

Probably doesn’t help that Derek is a biter and Stiles encourages it at every turn. It isn’t Derek’s fault that Stiles moans really fucking prettily for him when he’s got his teeth sunk into his shoulder or neck. Picturing it has Derek squirming in his seat and dammit, where the hell is Stiles? It’s been at least ten minutes now, and Derek is starting to wonder if he can be had up for loitering. Not that his car is becoming an uncommon sight on Stiles’s street but… come on.

Is it possible that the sheriff saw him and is deliberately keeping Stiles inside? Hell, he may know more than he knows. And Derek would totally get why. Paranoia has kept him alive before but there’s no way that the sheriff has had some sort of detail put on him. It just isn’t possible, they definitely would have noticed something like that, and probably pretty soon after it happened.

Derek doesn’t realize he’s gritting his teeth until he accidentally bites his tongue, and that snaps him out of it really damn quick. There’s no one following them, Stiles is probably just rushing around looking for a sock, and, come to think of it, the sheriff’s cruiser isn’t even here. There’s no reason he can’t just go up to the door and wait. But. Stiles had wanted to come over to  _ his  _ place. 

If only that were happening a little bit faster. He’s got the air on but even in late spring, the weather’s getting warm and his tank top clings to him with sweat. He’s lost all of his winter fat and has found that he’s come out leaner than he was before, firmer in places. Which means his rack looks great in a tank top and Stiles spends a lot more time staring at his tits. He likes the attention, even if it does come from places where he’d rather it didn’t. Not that it matters - it’s mostly Stiles he’s worried about keeping.

Might be something they need to discuss tonight in a “what does our future” hold together sort of way. Derek’s reasonably sure that he isn’t going anywhere, and Stiles has mentioned college a few times. In that offhand sort of manner that indicates he actively wants Derek’s input that he totally pretends isn’t actually serious.

This is one of those times where Derek is a little too sharply aware of the disparity in their age and that Stiles’ future  _ is  _ different from his own. It’s not a bad thing, nor does it mean an end.

Because Derek really, really doesn’t want one with Stiles. An end.

He grinds his teeth again and is probably well on his way to chipping a tooth when Stiles finally comes bounding out of the house with his backpack slung over one shoulder and a great big grin painted on his face. Derek’s about to get out of the car and meet him halfway but Stiles beats him, running the last twenty feet and getting in before Derek can even unbuckle his seatbelt. 

“Hey.”

Derek’s mouth is swallowed up in a kiss before he has the chance to say anything back, Stiles’ fingers tugging at the front of his shirt. Warmth floods Derek’s system in a rush that would probably work fast towards cutting his knees out from under him were he standing and God, Stiles smells  _ good,  _ happy, energetic in ways that make Derek want to pin him to a bed or table or wherever, really, and do filthy, filthy things to him.

“Something going on?” Derek hates to break away, but car sex is  _ not  _ his favorite thing, especially not mid afternoon in Stiles’ neighborhood. Not when he’s washed his bedding and aired the whole house out, letting in the scents of nature and vitality. And also letting out the stale scent of sex sweat and come that has been steadily accumulating. As much as Derek loves their scents, it was time.

“Can’t I just be happy I get to spend the afternoon sucking my boyfriend’s face?” Stiles reaches up and runs his fingers through Derek’s beard, thumbs over his cheeks and chin. “Unless you’d rather get a milkshake or go bowling or something.”

“No, sucking face sounds good. Definitely thought you were going somewhere else but yeah, we can start there.”

Derek doesn’t startle when he feels Stiles’ hand land on his thigh and slide down, then in, fingers curled around the muscle. He kind of wants him to keep going and touch his cock, even if it’s just a squeeze - is it bad that he just expects Stiles to go for that immediately? God, they spend so much time with their hands down each other’s pants that it’s basically the same thing as exchanging a hug. Derek keeps his legs spread just in case, but Stiles doesn’t take the bait just yet. 

And he still has that goofy, stupidly adorable grin on his face, and Derek  _ knows  _ there’s a reason why. Yeah, he’s enthusiastic about having Stiles’ tongue in his mouth too but he can just  _ tell  _ that something’s up.

“Seriously - what’s going on.”

“CSU Redding has a program they run through the Beacon Hills Technical College, and I applied today. For research.” Stiles strokes Derek’s leg, his ebullience making his scent change to something bright and spectacular, something  _ irresistible.  _ “Which means I can uh. Stay. I know we haven’t  _ talked  _ talked about it but it’s just a thought.” Stiles gets quiet as he lets his words sink in and yeah, they do still have to  _ talk -  _ but it’s made Derek’s day better already.

Derek suddenly feels clingy and needy in ways that he hasn’t in a long, long time, and knowing that Stiles is going to still be  _ around,  _ fuck, his wolf’s doing the equivalent of rolling around in the grass with contentment. 

A deep current of pleasure shoots through his blood, one that's almost foreign to his nerves. He feels  _ settled _ , and it makes his pulse beat a hair slower, transmuting to arousal so strong that his cock hardens fast enough to make him moan. Stiles  _ definitely  _ feels it, the swell against his fingertips obvious and unmistakable.

"You must be  _ really  _ glad to see me." Stiles licks his lips and goes for a further feel, fingers cupped along Derek's denim-covered shaft. "Guess I've got my work cut out for me tonight."

"Just stay in your seat and think about it. Non verbally." Good God, driving is hard enough with Stiles that close, but now he's hard and this close to begging for road head - which would be the exact reason that he gets pullled over and has to answer to the sheriff. Stiles does at least move his hand to Derek's knee, but he can still feel his eyes on his crotch. Good. Let Stiles be even more needy to get his mouth and hands on him. Just means that when they do get around each other, it's going to be all that much better.

Both of them live off of the anticipation, the build up. Stiles feeling him up just now has his dick  _ pouring  _ precome, sticky and wet along his shaft already. Further, deeper, he feels a pull from somewhere behind his balls, an unignorable desire to be  _ filled. _

__ "Derek, you're moaning." Stiles is looking at him with a mix of pleasure and confusion, his gaze making Derek sweat and want to squirm. "I didn't touch you after you told me not to."

That Derek didn't actually say the words for him to do that means Stiles is getting  _ scarily  _ good at reading body language that isn't exactly there. Derek drops his hand from the steering wheel and threads his fingers together with Stiles', only slightly embarrassed about how much his palms are sweating. "Why don't we take the first time with you on top?" 

Stiles digs into his knuckles ever so gently, his scent changing to  _ raw  _ want, the kind that makes Derek want to pull the call over and ravage him. "There's gonna be more than one time?"

"Thought you might like that." Derek is the one who wants it. Wants to make Stiles come as much as he can, no matter how he gets it. Bottoming for Stiles is such a sharp, particular pleasure, one that on the nights Stiles isn't in his bed that he longs for. His own fingers aren't a substitute for the way that Stiles moves or feels inside him, just like his fist can't replicate the perfect squeeze of Stiles around his cock. 

They really can't get back to the preserve fast enough - Scott and Isaac had been there earlier, and Derek had only seen them long enough to say hello. Isaac has a room there, and they had taken advantage of the privacy for the exact same purpose that Derek is taking back Stiles back for; it only  _ sometimes  _ feels like he's running a sex house, but it's not something he's grossed out about. Just means that bonds are strong and getting stronger, and the one between Scott and Isaac goes deep. Derek is secretly over the moon for that. 

And not just because he has someone too. It's a natural part of pack dynamics to see growth, and he's dead certain that it won't be all that long before Scott claims Isaac permanently. Who's happier about that is a close race - Isaac looks at Scott like he hung the fucking moon. Derek gets that, because he feels the same way about Stiles. He’s just not super great about giving him the big doe eyes and all that. But Stiles  _ knows,  _ Derek’s sure of it.

“You do know it’s a bad idea if we get stopped for speeding on the way over there, right?” Stiles gives him another look and grudingly, Derek will admit that he’s right. “And a ticket means less time with your tongue in my mouth and man, I’m not about that today. Hot as you’d look in handcuffs-”

Derek’s alpha  _ growls,  _ and it’s a ten second struggle to get him to shut up - being restrained is  _ so  _ not Derek’s thing. “I get it, Stiles. I’m horny as fuck too.” Saying it doesn’t lessen his need, and Stiles just smells all the more interested. Fuck, he’s  _ got  _ to get there, but he can’t speed and honestly, who the hell put Stiles’ house  _ so fucking far away. _

Stiles just tightens his grip on his hand and keeps looking at him, hungry and desiring and all those other things that Derek probably shouldn’t have directed at him. There’s plenty that he doesn’t deserve from him and yet, and yet - Stiles gives it to him. 

They finally reach Derek’s house and he’s  _ aching  _ for it, barely getting the car in gear before he’s got the front of Stiles’s shirt all twisted up in his fingers and is angling for a kiss, drinking the little moan that Stiles, feeling it slide down his throat and warm him so deeply that his need fucking  _ skyrockets,  _ sucking on Stiles’ tongue like it’s his only goal in life. Stiles’ hands is right back on his crotch, stroking, squeezing, pressing urgently the matter of getting their asses inside and  _ naked. _

“C’mon, Stiles.” Derek breaks himself away, practically launching himself out of the car. Stiles is right behind him, crowding up against Derek’s back as he unlocks the door. He’s all close, heat,  _ want -  _ Derek presses back into him, ready in ways that he can’t even begin to describe. He can still smell Scott and Isaac, in the living room on the couch, and he hears the slowness of their heartbeats. They’re asleep, which means that they’re gonna have to wait until they’re upstairs. Fine.

“They’re not gonna hear us, are they?” Stiles spares a glance at Scott’s head, only for Derek to pull him towards the stairs. “Was wondering where he’s been all day.”

“Yeah, they’ve been fucking. Guess I should have mentioned he was here.” Fucking. What Derek very,  _ very  _ badly wants to do right now. Why the hell does it feel like a compulsion today, something he’s got to have to keep going? Yeah, he likes it when Stiles tops him but now, fuck - it’s making him feel  _ hot. _

Bursting into the sanctuary of his bedroom with Stiles right on his heels brings a small measure of relief, going down easy on the bed, Stiles pulled in right on top of him. Stiles keeps his legs apart with a knee firmly planted between his thighs, hands keeping Derek's arms above his head with their fingers laced together - the  _ one  _ time that Derek is okay with being held down is like this. Stiles goes for his mouth, all enthusiasm and eager energy, tongue curling into Derek's own.

"Taste really fucking good today, Derek." Stiles seems  _ hooked  _ on it, the warmth and sweetness that's suddenly taken over Derek's mouth. Derek hums as Stiles swipes his tongue over his lips, letting himself in, fingers tightening over Derek's knuckles once again. 

"Plenty more." Derek's brain isn't good for much beyond that and fuck  _ all,  _ he needs more skin to touch. He pushes Stiles back and strips his shirt off, his own following a second later. Stiles has put on a lot of muscle that suits him astoundingly well, lean and strong and sharp in its definition; there's a strength to him that's addictive to the touch, attractive in its power. He runs his fingers over Stiles' biceps, only to have his hands pushed back out of the way and Stiles leaning down to capture his mouth again.

Only Stiles only stops at his mouth for barely a moment, shifting ever so slightly and he's  _ in Derek's pit.  _ Tongue deep, nose pressed in and inhaling his share of musk, sweat, pure alpha scent that he probably can't even pick up a tenth of but fucking  _ hell,  _ the fact that he's even doing it - Derek  _ whines,  _ nerve endings lit up from head to toe. It's too good, making his knot swell up fast and goddamn it, there's so much fucking  _ heat  _ in his guts, just from Stiles eating his pit out, moaning into Derek's skin like he's prepping him with his tongue. Stiles keeps grinding into him, slow, fervent, a painful reminder that there's still too much clothing between them, wetness-

Fucking shit, Derek  _ knows  _ he didn't just piss himself.

Did he?

"Derek, fuck, what's going on?" Stiles is sitting up in a big damn hurry, straddling Derek's thighs, wiping his mouth from the spit dripping down his chin. "The noise you just made did  _ not  _ sound like a happy one."

Derek pushes Stiles off of him, unbuttoning his jeans and fully expecting to face the smell of piss - only to smell something  _ radically  _ different. One that he would never, ever expect coming from himself. "Uh, Stiles can you…" He motions for Stiles to get off and with trepidation, pulls his jeans and underwear off, cock bone hard and smacking his stomach, precome dripping and sticking  _ everywhere.  _

"Dude, you've leaked a  _ fuckton."  _ Stiles goes to touch the sticky, clear fluid coating the insides of Derek's thighs, only for Derek to growl and back him off. "Ooookay. Need to go clean up?"

"Stop talking." Derek spreads his legs and tries not to pay attention to the way Stiles is staring at him, hopelessly fascinated by whatever physical anomaly his body just presented him with. He slides two fingers over his hole - which is currently  _ indescribably  _ sensitive - and gathers up the stickiness, brings it to his nose and the instant he smells it, his body goes into full alert mode. 

"Derek?"

Derek swallows, voice shaky- "I'm wet."

"Like… A girl gets wet?"

Stiles just went from concerned to overjoyed, and Derek's body is screaming for him to respond. "If you want to put it so indelicately. I...some of us…"

"You can self-lubricate  _ and you didn't tell me? _ " Stiles is trying to get close, and Derek is torn between shoving him away and letting it just  _ happen.  _ "You can't just keep that shit from me, man."

"Uh, this is new to me. I didn't know that I could so yes, I've been holding out on you." Derek can't keep the sarcasm out of his voice, but it does give him a hair more courage to explore further. "And don't say 'wet like a girl.' I'm having enough of an identity crisis as it is."

Stiles follows every motion of Derek's hand, rubbing his own hard cock through his shorts. "Wet like what then?"

_ Wet like an omega. _

__ "Just.. wet." Derek hikes his legs up and not only is he wet but  _ open  _ too, like Stiles has been fingering him for twenty minutes non-stop, ready to be fucked. The half of him that was freaking out is very quickly starting to change its tune, because it means he's  _ ready.  _ His knot's swollen up, hard and throbbing, sign number one that Stiles needs to get a fucking move on but no, his body had to go and throw him this curveball. Or blessing. He's honestly not sure how he should be framing it.

Stiles licks his lips, heartbeat skyrocketing as Derek slides two fingers into himself all too easily, three just a moment later. God, it feels  _ incredible,  _ a full body rush of ecstasy. He looks up at Stiles, grips his arm, growls  _ naked  _ and watches him rush to comply, stripping out of the rest of his clothes and watching his cock swing up and hit his stomach. Derek swears that he feels his hole pucker just looking at him, taking in the well-shaped power of his thighs, the dark spray of his treasure trail and pubic hair. He fucks his fingers back into him, Stiles grabbing his cock the second he’s settled back on his heels, still unsure of what Derek wants from him.

That’s entirely fair - Derek doesn’t have a roadmap of what  _ to  _ do with this discovery. He’s an alpha, who absolutely, one hundred percent, should not be able to make slick. Omegas do it as naturally as breathing - so what made  _ him  _ do it?

“So, what are you, some sort of biological anomaly?” He sounds way too stable considering the noises that Derek’s trying his damndest to bite back, never mind that Stiles has heard him beg before.

_ A lot. _

Derek is finding that even though he can’t ever stop actively wanting Stiles, he is still very much capable of wanting to smack him. Hard. “Stiles, shut up - I don’t know  _ what  _ this is. You’re the one who researches, not me.” That great big brain of his ought to have something in it about why Derek’s body is doing what it’s doing - unless Stiles has managed to awaken some long repressed biological function that’s just been forgotten.

But when’s the last time an alpha let someone get close enough to even  _ look  _ at their pits? Fuck, Stiles does it all the time and it feels really fucking good, and there’s something about today that feels different, like his body is actively seeking something  _ more -  _ maybe his ass gushing slick like that is part of it. Hell, he honestly doesn’t care  _ why  _ all that much, not when every single cell is screaming at him for Stiles to move, to fill him up and make the hot feeling in his lower body burn hotter, towards completion.

Stiles needs direction and Derek, God, he’s got all the time in the world to pick it apart. All he knows is that nature just saved them a couple of steps and he’s fucking  _ ready,  _ grabbing Stiles and pulling him back between his legs. “We can think  _ later. _ ” He kisses him, biting into Stiles’ mouth, slick-coated fingers wrapping around Stiles’ cock. “Right now you  _ need  _ to fuck me.” Fucking shit, his knot is so fucking hard that it  _ hurts,  _ bad enough that he’s going against nature and not burying it in Stiles’ ass - but this need to be filled up is  _ overwhelming. _

“Okay, Derek, just…” Stiles doesn’t finish, guides himself to Derek’s hole. Even just the tease of his cock head against the wet rim makes his toes curl, his fingers digging  _ hard  _ into Stiles’ hips. Stiles’ teeth sink into Derek’s bottom lip, making Derek growl back at him as he shoves  _ in,  _ fast, deep, slicked and warm and goddamn  _ perfect.  _ He’s reasonably sure that the size of Stiles’ dick didn’t change between now and a couple days ago but it feels different, better, like there’s been a missing piece and it’s finally back in place.

“‘S good.” Stiles gives a couple of tentative thrusts - Derek immediately craves more. “God, Derek, so fucking  _ warm. _ ”

“ _ Move.”  _ Derek’s brain can’t handle spitting out more than that right now, and Stiles knows enough by now that he isn’t remotely fucking around. He wraps his legs around Stiles’ waist, pulls him in, moans when Stiles goes right back for his pit. Slick-wet coats him further, Stiles’ hips moving, thrusting, tongue working its way past every line of restraint Derek has. The dual sensations of Stiles lighting his upper body and filling him all at one time make him feel like he's floating, moaning every time Stiles buries himself to the hilt. It's good. Every single time, it's good but today, with every receptor feeling like it's been laid open it's goddamn overpowering.

Stiles brings his mouth up and kisses Derek hard, bruising, his hips picking up speed. He can feel Stiles thicken further, the wet, loud slap of flesh frantic, erotic, dragging their orgasms closer and closer. "Fuck, Derek, babe, I'm fucking  _ there-"  _

__ It's like a bomb going off, Stiles slammed hips deep inside him and Derek feels every spurt, every pulse of Stiles' dick, flooding, filling him up, shoved right into his prostate. Derek gets him to move just a couple more times - it's Stiles hand that finishes him, come rocketing out over Derek's chest and stomach, knot swollen and oversensitive. He feels both powerful and annihilated, coming and coming and coming, ass clenched and wet around the thick stretch of Stiles's cock.

Biological anomaly, sure, whatever - it's the best fucking orgasm Derek had probably ever had. Not that Stiles needs to know that, now or probably for a very, very long time.

"This mean you're gonna be taking it from now on? Stiles is buried in his neck, cock still inside Derek's dripping ass. "Cause I was hoping for a turn. 'Cept my ass doesn't do that."

Derek would  _ love  _ to know how Stiles is still fucking capable of speech right now. Seriously. 

"Think that's what we have lube and spit for. Unless you just want to try and get me wet enough I can share." Saying it, the idea of using his own fucking slick to ream Stiles open, makes his fading orgasm pick right back up and more come coats his belly, clinging tight to Stiles as his body welcomes the idea. Fuck, they aren't gonna get  _ anything  _ done this weekend, are they?

"Don't challenge me if you're not serious."

Derek raises his head and snakes his tongue right back into Stiles' kiss-red mouth.

"Who the hell said I wasn't?"


End file.
